Vaermina's craft
by Ayice
Summary: The female Dragonborn awakens in fright after having an unpleasant dream in which Miraak, the First Dragonborn, plays a role.


_Author's note: I actually wrote this little snip a few months ago, but never got to sharing it. I'm a bit nervous...being that this is sort of the first piece of writing I've ever submitted for all the public to see. It's a tad random as I wrote it in the spur of a moment. I'm sort of posting this here to gauge how enjoyable my writing is and if writing in 1st person is good enough. If it is, then I'll post likely write my Miraak fic in first person. Yes, I still want to work on it. I've just been swamped with school and life, but I do want to work on it! Anyway, reviews would be great! :)_

**Vaermina's Craft**

Darkness, darkness is everywhere, I cannot see a thing. It is as if I've been stricken blind. I find myself spinning around countless times in search of something, my sword ready in hand, my body tense for any sort of attack-attack from what? I am unsure at the moment. Terror though, deep and pure terror, flints through me. It causes my heart to hammer, my breaths to leave me shallow and short. It causes sweat to form on brow, on my now clammy skin. I cannot concentrate. I cannot think. I am fearful, I am panicking.

But why am I fearful?

I am the Dragonborn, fearsome slayer of Alduin, Daedra and everything else. I have nothing to fear. Yet...what was the thing that inspired the panic within me?

"Do you ever wonder if it hurts, having your soul ripped out like that?"

A voice jeers, whispering deep in my ear. I twitch and stiffen, feeling a body pressing against my back. The presence is dark, it is overwhelming- suffocating. More fear pumps through me. Run, Run! A deep part of me screeches. I attempt to spin around, but stop short when a pain, a sharp pain, stabs through me.

"..."

My sword clatters to the ground as I look down and lift my hands. I have been stabbed-impaled. My mouth opens and closes as I attempt to speak. I can only manage a choked gasp.

"I guess you will see now, Dragonborn." The voice spits out the title as a mere mockery.

The blade is large and thick. It runs through a lung, puncturing it, its length and width great enough to even nick my heart. I cannot breathe. I cannot do a thing. A panicked whistling sound reaches my ears and I realize faintly that it is I creating the sound.

My hands clutch the blade feebly. Blood... It spills out from my wound, trickles down from my mouth. I taste its metallic flavor sliding down my throat, choking me. I cough. My blood... I never expected my blood to look so bright-or rather so dark against a blade.

The blade slides away. I fall to my knees, gurgling. Why? _Why?_ To the ground I go, falling flat to my face. I feel my life's blood spill before me, wetting my hair, my clothes, my being. I twitch.

Footsteps cause me to turn my head toward its sound and my eyes meet the sight of boots. They stand before me. They are boots I've seen before...

"You have failed the world, Last Dragonborn. I am finally free, thanks to you."

The voice-no, _he_-laughs.

"I thank you for your service."

An iridescent swirl of color appears before me. It is familiar, it is a sight I have met countless times in my life, it is the light I've associated with the taking of a Dragon's soul. The rays and streams of light that upon their sight fills me with full-fledged hunger, ultimate triumph and deep satsification. The brilliant streams that are of a Dragon's soul dance around me. It surges forward, going toward the feet of the one standing before me, swirling around him. It is then I realize that my soul is being taken from me, it is being ripped from me.

Have I ever wondered how it feels to have your soul ripped out? Yes, I have. Many times. I wondered each and every time I'd slain a dragon and taken its soul and now I know. Know of the pain they feel. It kills. It rips your whole body, your whole being, asunder. You can only feel yourself being torn apart, the taking tearing through you. Your bones and skin get colder yet you burn. It is far from any experience anyone could ever go through-the burning pain insurmountable.

The last I hear before fading to black is a dark laugh exhilarated by my death.

* * *

I lurched forward, sitting up with a sharp gasp. My heart hammered in my throat, I seemed unable to draw a proper breath.

Talos and the Nine Divines guide me. I brought a hand up to lay against my breast, pressing down as the erratic beat of my heart came to meet me. My other shaky hand came up to wipe the sweat off my brow. I closed my eyes and prayed, clasping my hands together.

_It was just a bad dream... It was just a bad dream._ I repeated to myself. Just a bad dream, a terrible and horrid dream.

A dream that hopefully never came true.

_Thank you for reading! :) Please review if you can!_


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